


The Importance of Proper Bedding

by damnrightitskakko



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: M/M, cute fluffiness I am sure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-24 16:59:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2589266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/damnrightitskakko/pseuds/damnrightitskakko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inigo comes back to the camp after an unfulfilling night of wooing to find his cot otherwise occupied. Rude.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Importance of Proper Bedding

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at writing these two dorks interacting. My shipper heart cannot bear it.

Beds, Inigo thought, were treasures. Truly, magnificent inventions of humankind. A blessing that one should always count, a miracle that should always be praised. How he had managed to survive those years in the wake of his parents' deaths, alone and on the road, with not even a shred of bedding in sight, mystified him yet. Even now, the cot he acquired upon joining the ranks of this past Ylissean army was a step up. Every night he had which he came home to find his cot still there for him to sleep on was a night worth the day's troubles. 

Which is why he was most vexed to discover his cot occupied.

 

"Owain, what on earth."

 

Owain peered up at him from behind his infernal diary. Stretched out on  _his_ cot. The  _nerve_.

 

"Avast! So the night yet be young, and the swain returns from his quest of conquest empty-handed. Like the tales of poets goneby, a tragic figure he remains with his attempts at greatness lost to the wind. I weep for your efforts wasted."

 

Inigo felt his face burn. If he'd known that this was waiting for him, he'd have just gone out to practice dancing in the woods again, his aching feet be damned.

 

"You--" Inigo bit his lip, and gripped his hands at his side. "Owain, if you came here just to be mean, I'm going to steal your diary again."

 

"What, so you can steal more advice on the path to true swordsmanship from me? Hah." Owain idly flipped through a page in his book. He then snapped the book shut with both hands, and met Inigo's eyes.

 

Inigo was suddenly reminded of how intense Owain could be. Complete dorkiness aside, the guy could stare down a

 

"Besides, I have--I didn't come to be mean. That is." Owain frowned. "I was waiting to bring you news."

 

Inigo blinked, and said, "You had to occupy my bed to tell me news?"

 

Or, at least, he thought he said that. Judging from Owain's confused expression, it must have come out wrong.

 

"....'You had bed woos'? Wow, you really are bushwhacked", Owain blurted, breaking from his 'noble' character. He sighed, and put his diary down. "Alright, then. Down you come."

 

"What?" Inigo barely got out, before he felt arms wrap around his knees. Owain grabbed him close, and he  _might_ have squawked as the two tumbled down onto the cot together. Inigo found himself with a face full of grass and gravel--the trajectory of their fall had him miss the cot by a full head. Specifically, Owain's.

 

A face full of grass, some gravel, and Owain's fluffy hair.

 

"Pffttggh. Pffght. Pfft. Owain, ugh, your hair. Pfgghaaggh."

 

"Heh--oops." Owain barely stifled another laugh. 

 

Inigo hardly found that to be an appropriate response. He tried to right himself from his suddenly topsy-turvy worldview, but found that somehow Owain had gotten his arms loose from around his knees. They were now tightly around his torso. Very tight. There was another spurt of stifled laughter, and Inigo felt himself dragged back onto the cot proper. He blinked, and looked up. Owain hovered over him, with his arms on either side of him, smiling.

 

"There. Now you're settled." 

 

Inigo suddenly felt very, very awake.

 

"I am not settled, Owain. I am far from settled. There's a mean buffoon in bed with me, in  _my_ bed, who's laughing at my pain. I am not settled in the least bit". Inigo squirmed, but found no way out; Owain had him pinned on all fronts. He pouted, completely flushed.

 

Owain grinned. "Ah. Of course, I forgot something." He leaned on one arm, and rummaged around for something beyond Inigo's sight. A few seconds, and the world went dark and freshly laundered.

 

Laundered?

 

"Owain?"

 

Inigo heard a thump, and a rustling next to him before Owain's face was visible again. Then he realized what was now on top of him.

 

"I heard about you loaning your blanket to Gerome since his got, er, sent to the dragons", Owain started. "So I scrimped up some of my funds and I went and got you a new one. While you were out, and all. I got Gerome's mom to help me with cleaning it in case of any bugs or anything, since well, I figured Gerome owes you one, so."

 

"Owain..." Inigo grabbed the edge of the blanket, and sniffed it. Yes. A proper blanket. His remaining irritation at Owain's antics were already evaporating.

 

"I remember how much of a sucker for comfort you are from all those nights we spent on the road together, after...after all that happened. I figured it was going to be harder for you to keep that smile up if you were losing sleep over this, so. Uh."

 

Inigo smiled. "Thank you, Owain. This is really...really..." he couldn't find another word. His brain was feeling kind of fuzzy.

 

"Really?" Owain's face blurred. He was probably still smiling.

 

"Mmm." Inigo adjusted his position on the cot. 

 

"Yes, well." Owain coughed. "You're welcome. For the return of proper bedding."

 

"Nn. Not proper. You're still in it", Inigo murmured.

 

"What was that? Not  _pooper_?" Owain asked. Inigo tried to correct him, he was sure of it. But then he had to fall asleep.

 

~~~

 

"Ah. So that's where you were."

 

Owain smiled. It was mid-morning, judging from the light of the opened tent flap. Bright, but not hot. Good.

 

Inigo lay next to him, still asleep. Also good.

 

"Did you expect me somewhere else, Gerome?" He asked, without looking away. The bags under Inigo's eyes had lessened. Very good, indeed.

 

"...The bell for morning drills will ring soon. I thought I should find you and let you know that your presence will be missed." 

 

"Ugh." Owain brushed a few stray hairs from Inigo's face. "Make something up for us. You're the reason Inigo hasn't been sleeping so well recently."

 

There was a shuffling noise just outside the tent. Owain huffed in satisfaction. So Gerome did feel bad about the blanket. Very, very good.

 

"Fine. But you can't just keep spoiling him like this."

 

"Hmmph. What's wrong with spoiling him a little?" 

 

There was a pause. "Because you're doing it for entirely selfish reasons. And you haven't told him anything about how you feel. You could--you could actually try to stop him from going out so much, and end his fruitless flirtations, but you stand by and do nothing but dote on him. Your actions are incomprehensible, and It's irritating to watch."

 

Inigo's breathing remained even. Owain sighed.

 

"...The lone hero is a tragic figure on the battlefield, destined to walk a road of bloodshed and loss--"

 

"Stop that 'Justice Cabal' nonsense. You're just lying to yourself. You're a coward, plain and simple. I don't know why I even bother." Owain heard the tent flap drop, and the light from the morning sun became shadow. There was the sound of footsteps receding, and then nothing but the ambient noise of the camp surrounded him.

 

Inigo shifted in his sleep. Owain felt his heart tighten in his chest. 

 

Gerome wouldn't be able to buy them much time. But Owain planned on savoring every spare minute he had.

 

"...Ten more minutes", he whispered to himself, and lay content.


End file.
